Through My Eyes
by Picklewinkle
Summary: Best smut winner in the CURVACEOUS AND BODACIOUS BOMBSHELL FIC CONTEST. Edward thinks Bella is perfect the way she is. Now that he finally has the chance, he's going to prove it to her. Rated M. AH ExB


**ENTRY FOR THE ENTRY FOR THE CURVACEOUS AND BODACIOUS BOMBSHELL FIC CONTEST**

**Story Name: Through My Eyes**  
><strong>Penname: Picklewinkle<strong>  
><strong>Rating: M<strong>  
><strong>Genre: RomanceAngst**  
><strong>Pairing: EdwardBella**  
><strong>Total Word Count: 10, 547<strong>  
><strong>Summary: Edward thinks Bella is perfect the way she is, and now that he finally has the chance, he's going to prove it to her.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Through My Eyes<strong>

I didn't need to turn around to know who'd made the quiet grunt behind me. I'd spent nine years memorizing every one of her sounds.

"Hey." I peeked around the cement pillar that hid me from view. "Do you need help?"

"Oh, it's just Eric," she told me, not bothering to look at me. I could see the grimace on her face as she twisted her hands. "He was trying to make me laugh."

"By over tightening your gas cap?" I failed to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, mostly because I didn't try. Eric was a douchebag. There was no way in hell I was going to make excuses for his sorry ass, especially when it came to how he treated Bella.

"He wanted me to think of him." She blew her hair out of her face and looked up at me – all rosy cheeks and big brown eyes. "It's really kind of sweet."

"Yeah, so sweet it makes my teeth ache," I mumbled. "Here, let me." I eased her hand off the cap, anticipating and luxuriating in the tingling that I always felt when I touched her skin.

"He means well," she murmured, watching as I wrenched the cap open. That son of a bitch had to have used a tool to tighten it. Bella never would have gotten it open by herself.

"Why do you let him treat you like this?" I couldn't keep the intensity out of my tone. She deserved so much better than what that stupid fuck gave her.

"He's a jokester. You know how he is." She smiled and turned away from me, sliding her credit card into the gas pump and selecting the right settings.

"Disrespectful is what he is and completely undeserving of your loyalty." He didn't deserve to breathe the same air she breathed, let alone her affection or admiration. I reached around her and grabbed the nozzle, determined to show her the sort of treatment she was worthy of.

"Thanks," she mumbled, blushing and looking away. "I'm perfectly capable of pumping my own gas, you know."

"Of course you are, but I'm here, so you don't have to." I grinned at her so she wouldn't argue with me.

"Friend, co-worker, personal fuel assistant… you wear a lot of hats, Cullen."

"You have no idea." The one hat I wanted wasn't mine to wear, but I'd take every opportunity I was given to earn it, whether it was by pumping gas, covering shifts at the bar, or even by being the schmuck who listened to Bella vent about her significant other. Anything that brought me the slightest bit closer to her was fine with me.

We made small talk while I finished filling her tank. Bella wasn't working her regular weekend shifts, something about an impromptu getaway with Yorkie. I blocked out the particulars, nodding and smiling when it seemed appropriate. I might be an opportunist, but I was still a dude. No guy wanted to hear about his girl's sexcapade plans with another asshole. Fine, so technically she wasn't _my girl_. I still didn't want the deets on where and when she might give it up to another guy. It wasn't hot or sexy; it was just plain depressing.

"So you'll be back for your shift on Sunday?" I was in desperate need of a subject change. Discreetly admitting that I'd be counting down the minutes until she returned seemed germane.

"Yeah. We close together, don't we?" She looked up at me with a sweet smile, the one I pretended she reserved just for me. It conveyed that she was happy we'd be spending some time together, that she was looking forward to it even.

I loved Sundays, also known as the boss's day off. I was more than content to become the permanent closer in Kate's absence. All I asked from her in return was a reliable co-worker to help me manage things, comfortably cocky in the knowledge that Bella had requested steady Sundays. It was eight hours of uninterrupted bonding time, if you discounted the customers and job duties. Of course neither of us did, but during those precious hours, I indulged in the fantasy that she was mine. It didn't hurt that we worked so well together. There was an energy and rhythm between us. It had always been there, from the very first moment we'd met.

"We sure do. And I need you firing on all cylinders, so don't show up hung-over or call in sick or… anything." _Like in love or engaged or otherwise attached in any way to that shit of a boyfriend_. I laughed, realizing how exceptionally stalkerish that would have sounded if I'd actually let it come out of my mouth. Little did Bella know that stalker was another hat I wore.

"I guess I'll see you Sunday then."

"Yeah, for sure… um… Be safe." Of all the emo things to say, I chose the most pussy of them all. Sadly, I couldn't even defend myself because it was true. I hated the idea of her being with Eric, let alone going to some out of the way motel with him to play hide the banana.

"No worries, hotshot. Port Townsend isn't exactly a mecca for crime."

"Yorkie's a little shifty." I disguised my dig with a chuckle, hoping she'd hear the warning in my words.

"Yeah, he's downright nefarious," she teased, rewarding me with her lilting laughter. I sighed quietly and let the sound fill me up. It was one of my absolute favourites.

Once she was in her truck, I slammed the door shut for her. "You can't be too careful, Bella. You never know what's lurking around the corner." I shuddered involuntarily, my protective instinct surfacing with a vengeance.

"I'll see you in two days, and I promise I'll be in one piece."

I waved distractedly as she pulled away, glancing down at my watch. Forty-five hours and twenty-seven minutes to go.

**~8~**

Only four hours had passed when Kate found me in the stockroom to tell me that Bella was out front. It was a bit of a shock to see her sitting at the bar. In all the years I'd known her, I'd only seen her drink a handful of times. It was always at a party or some kind of celebration. Never once had I seen her drinking in a bar, let alone by herself. Her head was in her hands so I couldn't see her face.

"What can I get for you?" I murmured, bending forward so I could be a little closer to her.

She didn't raise her head or speak to me. Instead, she tapped the rim of her glass.

"Bella, look at me." I had a feeling she wouldn't, but I didn't feel right putting my hand on her without giving her some kind of warning. I reached out for her cheek, brushing my thumb across her cheekbone. "Hey, it can't be that bad."

When she didn't answer, I eased her head up by caressing the side of her face and hooking my fingers under her jaw. I was instantly alarmed when I saw her red, puffy eyes and pale cheeks, both dead give-aways that she'd been crying. The only thing I could think of was wrapping my arms around her to comfort her.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"Please don't call me that." She turned her face away from my touch, casting her eyes downward so she didn't have to look at me.

"It's never bothered you before. Did I do something to upset you?" My accusation was intentional. Bella hated it when she thought people were upset with her. One well-placed question was usually enough to make her open up.

"Of course not," she whispered, looking up at me as a tear trickled down her cheek. I felt like shit when I realized how truly upset she was. "You're a good man. You'd never do something to purposely hurt me."

I poured her another drink while I carefully considered what to say. "But _someone_ hurt you… someone who isn't a good man."

"Yes… Eric." Her breathing hitched as his name left her lips, as if even saying his name was painful. It was the only thing that saved him in that moment. If she hadn't needed me, I'd have found him and beaten him with every ounce of anger he'd ever made me feel. He deserved nothing less for making Bella cry.

I wanted to tell her that she was better off without him – that he was a prick who had never deserved her – but that wasn't what she needed to hear. She needed support, not more anguish. "Ah… I see. You and Eric had a fight. Whatever happened, I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding. I bet he's going to beg for your forgiveness."

"Not exactly. He doesn't even know that I know." She picked up the lowball glass in front of her and downed the contents. I bit my lip to halt the scolding that wanted to come out of my mouth and watched her face grimace, hoping the burn of the vodka would make her think twice about what she was doing.

"And what do you know?" I wiped a cloth across the bar while I waited for her to answer me.

"I'll tell you, if you pour me another." Her voice was so dejected that I couldn't deny her a refill. She wasn't drunk yet, but it wouldn't take long at the rate she was going.

I excused myself for a moment so I could ask Kate to cover for me. Bella needed a friend, and I wanted to give her my full attention without being interrupted by customers. I scooped a bottle and a couple of shot glasses and took her to a secluded booth at the back of the bar.

Bella slumped in her seat despondently, grabbing the shot and swallowing it down before I had mine poured. Liquid courage, I supposed. I threw mine back and stared expectantly at her, waiting for her to start talking.

"Keep it coming," she pleaded, tears welling in her beautiful, brown eyes.

"You're going to puke if you keep this up." My warning was light, meant only to point out the consequences of her actions. She was a grown woman who could make her own decisions. I just wasn't sure she was in the right mind to make good ones.

"So what… Look at me. Throwing up could hardly hurt me." Her hand swept down her body in a decidedly theatrical motion. It wasn't like Bella to pick on herself. Whatever had happened, she'd taken it personally, that much was obvious.

"I am looking," I whispered, waiting patiently for her to return my gaze before I spoke again. "There is _nothing_ wrong with you. Making yourself sick can't fix what isn't broken."

"Apparently my fat ass is very entertaining." Her words caused my chest to constrict uncomfortably. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to contradict her, but I stayed silent out of respect. She was already having trouble getting the story out and interrupting her would only make it harder. Her fingers tapped the tabletop in an angry, staccato rhythm. "It's a constant topic of supposition, so I've learned."

"What does this have to do with Eric?" Not that I gave a fuck about him. I just needed her to keep talking so I could figure out what the heck she was trying to tell me.

"He left himself logged into twitter," she said matter-of-factly, as if that small tidbit would clear up the ocean of confusion that I was lost in.

"He said something about you on twitter?"

"Not about _me_ exactly… about my ass… about me being fat in general."

She took her phone out of her purse and pressed a few buttons before handing it to me. The twitter feed on the screen belonged to a user named _FattieFanatic_. His icon was a side shot of a naked ass and hip, emphasizing his preference for plus-sized women for the truly clueless who couldn't grasp it from his screen name. Aside from his questionable handle, which I found condescending, his tweets weren't overtly obnoxious. He used very little profanity and kept the mockery to a minimum. The worst reference I saw was to a butterball and wanting to fuck it in the ass. Not one to judge personal preferences, sex with poultry wasn't something _I_ was into, but to each his own.

"I don't get it, Bella. What does this have to do with you?"

"Eric is FattieFanatic," she told me emphatically. "And by extrapolation… I'm the turkey."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You don't find the nickname _ButterBell_ a little coincidental?"

"But your twitter account is _EyeEmSwan_," I mumbled, scanning the screen again. Sure enough, I'd read the tweet wrong, unintentionally replacing the _e_ with an _a_ like any self-respecting Thanksgiving-loving American would. As it was written, the appellation could easily be a play on Bella's name. I started reading the tweets more carefully, and the inferences to Bella became clearer with each cleverly disguised insult. My stomach started to churn.

I caught the movement of Bella's hand in my peripheral vision as she poured herself another shot. The bite of the alcohol barely registered on her face. Despite the buzz she must have been feeling, her expression was so heartbreakingly forlorn that I felt helpless.

"He's a dumb fuck… a disrespectful, moronic, unappreciative piece of shit. Nuff said."

"You don't get it," Bella whispered, blinking and making more tears fall down her cheeks. "You don't speak that way about someone you love."

"Oh, I get it," I assured her acerbically, struggling to keep my anger toward Eric contained. "And you sure as hell don't! He was never good enough for you, though. He's just proved me right." I'd never liked the guy. After he started dating Bella, he was a constant thorn in my side. I'd never understood what Bella saw in him in the first place, let alone why she stayed with him.

"But if someone like Eric thinks that because of my weight… he thinks I'm less than even _I_ thought I was-"

"Hey, none of that shit." I couldn't sit by while she condemned herself. Eric was narrow-minded and twisted. I didn't want her seeing herself through the eyes of that spineless, disrespectful jerk. "Who you are has nothing to do with what Eric thinks."

"You can avoid it all you want, Edward, but I was scraping the bottom of the barrel with him-"

"Hey, I'm not going to argue that he was less than what you deserve. The guy's a prick."

"That's not what I mean. I always knew he wasn't the most upstanding man, but I put up with his shortcomings because I thought he cared about me. It turns out the only reason he was with me was because I met the needs of his particular kink."

"You don't know that. Lots of people have fetishes. It doesn't mean he doesn't care about you." Due to some bizarre aberration of karma, I'd somehow become Yorkie's defender. I couldn't let Bella think he didn't care, not when she was willing to take the blame for his behaviour because she felt unworthy.

"We both know he didn't treat me that well, and those tweets prove that he didn't respect me. Would you write those things about someone you cared for?"

"No, but I'm not him. I can't pretend to understand his motivations. What I do understand is that it would be impossible not to care about you. You're a wonderful, giving person, Bella. He'd have to be a moron not to fall in love with you."

"Didn't you already call him a moron?" She had me cornered, and she knew it. Even half in the bag, Bella was observant with a tremendous recollection for details.

Feeling appropriately debunked, I blushed and shook my head. "I'm not exactly the best judge of character in this situation. My opinion of him is fairly biased," I admitted with a smirk.

"He never said he loved me," she whispered, shame etched on her features. "In a lot of ways, he alluded to the fact that he didn't."

"Did you love him?" I swallowed uneasily, unsuccessfully trying to dislodge the lump in my throat. I wasn't completely sure I wanted to know the answer to the question I'd asked.

"I tried to… I don't know. It probably doesn't even matter. What's done is done." She poured us both another shot and raised her glass in the air. "To forgetting the past."

"To seeing things clearly," I rephrased, not wanting to forget a single moment we'd shared over the years.

My eyes were glued to her lips as she tipped the jigger up to her mouth and poured the liquid in. I shouldn't have found her bid to get shitfaced so attractive, but there was something in her determination that was undeniably sexy. There was a method to her madness. The alcohol was just a means to an end – a weapon to help her battle the pain and rejection so she could meet it head on. The woman in front of me wasn't afraid to hurt, and maybe that vulnerability made her sexier than anything else. It certainly made her amazing, at least in my eyes.

"So where do you go from here?" I wondered aloud.

"I guess I go home and tell him to get the fuck out." She smiled smugly, liking the idea of putting Eric in his place. A tiny hiccup escaped from her lips, and I couldn't help but grin. She was just so damn adorable slightly spaced-out. Come to think of it, after five shots, she was probably good and drunk.

"I'd say _I'll drink to that_, but I think you've had enough, young lady."

"Okay, dad," she teased, sliding out of the booth and onto her feet. She swayed unsteadily, grabbing onto the table for support. Definitely drunk.

"Have a seat, and stay put. I'm going to go find Kate and let her know I'm taking you home."

"Take me home tonight. I don't want to let you go 'til you see the light." She giggled as she sang, unexpectedly lightening my worries.

"You're singing Eddie Money to me? Don't you think I ought to be singing that to you?" I didn't realize what I'd admitted until after the words were out of my mouth. Her face squished up into the cutest confused expression for a moment.

"Why would you sing that to me?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with child-like wonder.

"If you let me take you home, I might tell you why later. Now sit!" I eased her back into the booth and kissed the top of her head, tired of trying to stay away from her. I didn't have to with Eric out of the picture, and I wanted her to feel cared about after what he'd done to her.

I quickly found Kate and filled her in on what was happening, leaving the details about why Bella was done with Eric out of the explanation. Kate knew how bad I had it for Bella, and she was more than happy to give me the rest of the night off to ensure that our heartbroken friend would get home safely. I promised to pick up a couple of extra shifts next week to pay her back.

Bella was waiting just where I'd left her, sipping at a sixth shot. There was no way she was getting through the night without throwing up. It was inevitable at this point. Of course, that raised an interesting problem. What kind of man would I be if I left her alone when she was very likely past the point of being able to take care of herself? I rubbed my hand across my chin, scratching at the stubble on my jaw while I considered making the most of the opportunity.

"Are you trying to make sure you don't sleep alone tonight?" I teased, chuckling when she looked up at me with wide eyes. "I'd be willing to lay down cash on the fact that you'll be puking before the night's out."

"I'll take that bet. I'll just sleep the alcohol off. You know I'm not one to throw up."

Famous last words. We didn't even make it to my car before she started gagging. Halfway home, we had to pull over to the side of the road for the encore. Once we got to her apartment, she barely made it through the door before she was running for the bathroom. By that point it was stomach acid and dry heaves. I tried to explain that it was better that way – that the alcohol wouldn't even make it into her bloodstream so her hangover would be lessened – but she wasn't buying it. I couldn't blame her, really. I'd been where she was. It wasn't pleasant.

I sat down on the bathroom floor and rubbed her back, gathering her hair into a loose ponytail to hold it out of the way. As terrible as I felt for her, it was nice to take care of her. I'd spent so long holding back. It was a relief to just let go and feel, to follow my instincts instead of burying them, to stop hiding and show Bella how I felt about her.

Once her stomach had finally stopped convulsing, she slumped listlessly against me. I reached up to the vanity and grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste, being careful not to jostle her too much.

"I don't wanna brush," she whined, pushing my hand away.

"I know you don't, but it will make you feel better. And I won't have to smell vomit all night. It's a win-win endeavour."

"You know what will make me feel better? Telling Eric to fuck off again. Maybe to his face this time. Telling him over the phone wasn't nearly as satisfying as I thought it would be."

"You called Eric?"

"There's no use in waiting to light the match that implodes your life." She tipped her head back and looked up at me wearing a sad smile. "I thought it might be less embarrassing to admit my stupidity without an audience, so I took advantage of the privacy when you went to find Kate."

"How did he take the news?" It wouldn't have surprised me if he didn't believe her. Lord knows he was too stupid to fight for her, entirely too full of himself to realize what he was losing.

"Did you know I can see up your nose from this angle?"

I rolled my eyes. "Time to brush," I directed, passing the toothbrush into her hand and pulling her up to her feet. She groaned but obliged me. Once I was sure she could stand on her own, I left her alone to finish up and went in search of some juice. I was rooting around in the fridge when Bella smacked my ass. The sensation when right to my dick, and I groaned desiredly. I don't think she heard me. If she did, she didn't react.

"Watcha doin'?" Her playful tone was unexpected. Not five minutes ago she was laid out on the bathroom floor. I thought for sure she'd be sleepy.

"Looking for some juice. We need to replenish your fluids to ward of the nasty hangover that is knocking at your door."

"I didn't hear knocking. Is someone at the door?"

I eyed her warily, assuming that she was being sarcastic, but one look at her face told me she thought I was serious. Her spew triathlon may have emptied her stomach, but it wasn't enough to sober her.

"How many drinks did you have before I found you at the bar?"

"Two… maybe three. I wasn't exactly counting. Why?"

Fuck. It was a wonder she could even stand. "You are going to be a mess in the morning," I muttered under my breath, turning back to the fridge. "Don't you have any juice, woman?"

"I can go to the store and get some. What kind do you want?" She smiled sweetly at me, perfectly willing to do exactly what she'd offered.

"You're not going anywhere but to sleep." I found some Gatorade in the pantry and filled a glass with ice. "Here, drink this."

"But it's blue."

I laughed at the way her nose was wrinkled up, as if the colour somehow rendered the drink poisonous or infected it with some equally life-threatening condition. "Metabolites, baby girl. Your body needs them, the blue liquid has them."

She took the glass from my hand, her fingertips tickling my knuckles and leaving my skin aching for her. I watched to make sure she drank every last drop. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and handed me back the glass.

I quickly put the glass in the sink and returned to her. Smoothing my hands along her shoulders, I turned her around and coaxed her body to move forward. "Now to bed with you."

She reached up for my hand and laced her fingers through mine. "You come, too," she mumbled, yawning.

God I wanted to. I couldn't think of anything more perfect than curling up next to Bella for the night, but my dick had other plans. He liked the idea of lying in bed with her just fine, but sleep was rather low on his agenda. There was no fucking way he was going to stand down if my body was connected to Bella's in any way. I just didn't know how to tell her no.

She shuffled to the bedroom, pulling me somewhat reluctantly behind her. I wasn't really resisting her, but I was fighting with myself about doing the right thing and just exactly what the right thing was. There was no way in hell I was giving up the opportunity to make Bella mine now that she was single. I just couldn't ignore the fact that pouncing on her when she was in a drunken stupor kind of epitomized bad timing.

I stalled us in the doorway. She pulled my arm forward, but with my feet planted, she couldn't move me. After several concerted tugs, she turned to look at me.

"Listen…" I spoke softly, hoping she could discern how hard this was for me to do. "You and Eric broke up like two seconds ago… and you're drunk."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "And you're tall and often overbearing. What's your point?"

"You have no idea how much I want to crawl into bed with you. You aren't making this easy."

"Nobody said life was easy." She dropped my hand and walked away from me, leaving me regretful that I'd said anything. Sinking down onto the bed, she pulled her socks off one by one. Her eyes darted to mine, silently pleading with me. It took every ounce of restraint I had in me not to go to her.

"You and I are always easy… too easy. I can't afford to screw this up." I was doing exactly what I said I wasn't going to do anymore – staying away from her – but for an entirely different reason. Before tonight, I couldn't go to her; now, I shouldn't.

"I need you." Her whispered words shattered my heart. I knew she was hurting, and despite the fact that I wanted to make her feel better, the risk of disaster was too high.

"I need you, too, but what happens in the morning when you're sober and you can't take tonight back? What happens if Eric apologizes and begs you to reconsider? You're not coherent enough to make this kind of decision tonight, and I don't want to blow this chance."

"This is because I'm fat, isn't it? Eric liked the fat, not me, and you like me but not the fat. I can't fucking win."

I was at her feet in an instant. If Bella were the conniving type, I'd say she knew exactly which buttons to push and how to do it expertly. She wasn't, though. She was vulnerable and hurting, skilled at believing the worst after so many years of people letting her. She'd never been shown how beautiful she was. No one had ever taken the time to make her feel adored, to shower her with attention that would push away all of the doubts that society had forced onto her. No woman should be made to bear the ills of perfection, especially when the definition was some unobtainable standard that only a handful of too-thin models could be manipulated into. There was nowhere to fall but down.

"This is because you're too drunk to think straight. You don't know how long I've waited for you."

"You don't have to wait," she whimpered, flopping back onto the bed.

I crawled up next to her, lying on my side so we were face-to-face. "I don't _want_ to wait for you," I murmured, letting my hand gloss over her hair affectionately. "But it's the only respectful thing to do. If you truly want me now, I have to believe you'll still want me when you're sober."

"Your morals are irritating sometimes."

I chuckled and rolled onto my back. "I can't argue with you on that one."

"You should see what I bought for him," she mumbled. "Stupid rat bastard." She wiggled off the bed, awkwardly staggering around while she tried to remove her jeans.

"Bella, why are you taking your clothes off?" She was so focused on her task that she didn't answer me. It almost seemed liked she'd forgotten I was in the room.

Once she pushed her jeans down to her ankles, she kicked and fumbled until she could step out of them. I stared at her, slack-jawed. The creamy, pale skin of her legs had my full attention, every delightful curve and angle.

She turned toward the mirror and peeled off her shirt, revealing what she'd bought for her weekend with Eric. Once I saw the bra and panty set with my own eyes, I was a goner. She was stunning in an all-encompassing can't-think-can't-move-can't-breath kind of way. The pale rose colour set off her skin perfectly, and her skin, my God, her skin. The fabric was delicate and sheer, adorned with small, embroidered black flowers, the wide repetitive pattern drawing my hungry eyes across the surface. To finish blowing my mind, a thin, band of lace ran along her waist and around her legs, its black colour a lovely contrast to the rose. And I hadn't even looked at the bra yet. I think it was fair to say that Eric was officially the dumbest fuck on the face of the Earth.

My eyes swept up her body slowly, memorizing and savouring. The most I'd ever seen of her body were tiny little teases of skin between her shirt and jeans when she moved. To say that seeing her almost bare had an effect on me might have been a slight understatement. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I forgot to breathe. Whoever said a penis needed oxygen to become erect was a liar, because I was as hard as a rock.

My gaze stilled when I reached her tits. They were magnificent, perfectly tucked into a matching rose demi cup. (My days of whacking off to the Victoria's Secret catalogue had taught me more about bras than I cared to admit out loud.) Whoever fit this bra on her deserved a medal of some sort. It pushed her up and out in all the right ways. The half-cup accentuated her cleavage to its best advantage, or should I say to my advantage, and boy was I taking advantage. The dainty scalloped edge of each cup lay against the swell of Bella's breasts like a personalized invitation, and the set of the straps was deliciously wide, leaving a large expanse of perfect skin for eyes to feast on.

Hats off to lingerie makers and the total racket they had going. Men paid top dollar to buy this shit for their wives and girlfriends, all for about ten minutes of wear-time before we wanted to strip it back off of them. After seeing Bella, it was worth every penny I'd ever spend. She was bewitching.

While she studied herself in the mirror, I not so subtly adjusted myself and slid to the edge of the bed. A multitude of emotions flitted across her features as I observed her. "What are you thinking?" I asked, so in need of her thoughts that I was trembling.

"I feel pretty in this," she whispered, frowning at her reflection. "I wanted to hear him say it… just once."

"You're stunning." I got to my feet and moved behind her, standing close enough to feel the heat from her body. With my lips at her ear, I murmured softly, "You're stunning." I breathed in and out, revelling in her heady scent. "Absolutely exquisite."

"I didn't give him the satisfaction of admitting that I knew what he'd done. It seemed more apropos to tell him I'd changed my mind and that he wasn't good enough for me." Her sad eyes didn't mirror the conviction in her tone.

"Someday I'm going to show you what you're worth," I told her. It was a promise I intended to make good on as soon as she was sober, if she'd let me.

"I'm hungry." She spun around and looked at me. "Could you eat? Because I could eat."

I smirked and shook my head, reminding myself that she was drunk, not ignoring me. She was too out of it to realize what her beauty was doing to me. "I could eat."

She practically skipped to the kitchen, pulling herself up to sit on the counter. If not for her state of dress, I would have said she was absolutely fine. The fact that she was sitting in her underwear in the kitchen in front of me was anything but normal. Not that her lack of clothing was bothering me, but it certainly was distracting.

I pulled a yogurt cup out of the fridge and handed it to her. "Eat this while I make you some eggs." Gathering ingredients from the refrigerator, I began an omelette. I was chopping red peppers when she stretched across the space between us to grab one. Her nipple peeked out as she bent forward in front of me. In my stupor, the knife dropped from my hand and clattered to the floor. Luckily, my toes and other important protruding body parts were spared from being cleaved off in my carelessness. She grinned mischievously at me, still completely unaware of the party in my pants that was being held in her honour. I pulled my t-shirt over my head and handed it to her.

"What's this for?" she asked curiously.

"I'm going to level with you. Seeing you in _that_…" I pointed at her, waggling my finger back and forth between her bra and panties. "Is driving me nuts. I can't keep my eyes off of you. For the sake of all my important appendages that might be harmed if I drop my knife again, we'll both be happier in the long run if we cover you up. Granted, the short term sucks, so feel free to strip down to nothing once I serve you your food."

She grinned smugly, blushing while she dressed in my shirt. I was pretty smug myself. Leaving her the way she was – almost bare – was my preference, but if I had to cover her up, my clothing was damn near the top of the list of things I wanted to see her in. It made me feel like she was mine.

"Go, sit," I instructed, giving her a hand so she could get down from the counter. She jumped off and crashed into me. In my opinion, she did it on purpose, still relishing in the physical effect she had on me. If she did, more power to her. I was more than glad to deliver her that kind of satisfaction.

Because I was enjoying the carefree, almost flirtatious atmosphere between us, I smacked her ass lightly after she turned her back to me. She yelped playfully and dashed to the table. It was almost juvenile the way we took turns staring at one another while I finished cooking, but I absolutely loved the way it made me feel.

"How did you know I wanted eggs?" she asked, looking up at me as she chewed a bite of her omelette a few minutes later.

"I read your mind."

Wide, chocolate brown eyes blinked at me, curious and bewildered. She was normally gullible, but the alcohol made it more pronounced. "You can read minds?"

"Everyone's but yours. Yours is a mystery to me."

"You're lying." She pretended to glare at me. Her poorly feigned irritation didn't last long before she started laughing.

I grinned at her, knowing her giggles meant that I was forgiven. "I had an ulterior motive for choosing eggs. Tomorrow morning, you're going to be chock full of a chemical called acetaldehyde, a by-product of your body processing the alcohol in your system. Cysteine helps break it down and hopefully will lessen your hangover symptoms."

"The eggs contain cysteine?"

"The eggs, the red peppers, even the onions." I grinned sheepishly, crossing my fingers that she wouldn't think I was a gigantic nerd for applying science to her impending hangover.

"That's sweet," she cooed, pink-cheeked and smiling. I couldn't tell if she was impressed by my thoughtfulness or embarrassed that I was taking care of her.

"I would have fed you wheat germ or oatmeal if I thought you could have handled it without puking again."

"Holding my hair back and listening to the sound of my retching echo off the toilet bowl was the highlight of your night."

I reached out and flipped up the corner of her shirt to reveal the edge of her panties. "I beg to differ…"

"Okay, fine, it was top three, though" she teased.

"Maybe top five," I quipped.

We continued our staring game at the table, although we stopped taking turns and trying to be subtle. When our eyes locked, the intensity between us was palpable. I urged her to finish eating, knowing it was in vain. She was exhausted. She yawned and stretched, struggling to keep her eyes open. It was clear she didn't want to go to sleep, but it was what she needed. I took her hand and led her back to bed.

When she crawled onto the mattress, the view of her ass was spectacular. It was also the first time I noticed how sheer her panties actually were. I could see everything – _everything_ – and there was no hiding the effect it had on me.

"Even though you don't want to sleep with me, will you _sleep_ with me?" Her voice was timid, braced for rejection. I just didn't have the strength to stay away knowing how much it would hurt her.

"I'll stay until you fall asleep." I slipped in next to her, aligning my body around hers protectively. She settled back against me, nestling into my shape.

"It's a little early for morning wood, isn't it?" she teased, pushing her ass back against my cock.

I groaned and fought the urge to push my hips into her. "It's a chronic condition when I'm around you. I'm afraid you're stuck with it, if you decide to keep me around."

"Tomorrow morning you're going to realize that you wasted a perfectly good night of sex." She yawned and snuggled a little more into my body.

"I'm perfectly happy to give up sex with you for one night if it means I get to keep you forever."

She sighed softly. "Be careful what you wish for."

She was asleep within moments, her body like dead weight against mine. Holding her filled me with the strangest mixture of contentment and fear, a sense of belonging that was corralled by the anxiety that it was all a lie. I tried to focus on her even breathing and commit to memory the way she felt against me, but I couldn't keep the fear at bay.

I lay with Bella for an hour, long enough to be sure that she was peacefully asleep, and then moved into the living room. Between the heat of our connected bodies and my perpetual hard-on, I was downright ornery.

Sleep was hard to come by. The couch was nowhere near as comfortable as Bella's bed, and my mind just wouldn't shut off. I thought of the beautiful woman in the next room and how badly I wanted to touch her. I fantasized about getting to know every inch of her body like only a lover could. I pondered longing and satisfaction and the notion of finally making her mine. But it always came back to thoughts of never having her and wondering if I'd made a mistake refusing her. I couldn't regret treating her respectfully, but once she woke up, if sobriety equated to rejection and she no longer wanted me, it would be a bitter pill to swallow.

Around 7:00 AM, I was started awake when Bella called my name. I went to check on her but she was still asleep. A part of me was comforted by the fact that she called out to me in her dreams. Maybe it meant I had a chance with her.

I went back to the living room to pace, too filled with nervous energy to consider sleeping. Finally, around 9:30 AM, I heard Bella call me again. I didn't go to her this time. Instead, I stayed sitting on the couch, anxiously flexing my threaded fingers and waited for her to come to me.

"I thought it was a dream," she said quietly, standing a few feet away from me. "I thought I'd imagined the whole thing."

"It wasn't a dream." I looked up at her, poker-faced and solemn, needing to hear her say the words before I went to her.

"But you said… well, if you… I don't know what to say."

"Just say what's in your heart."

"It says that I can't have what I want." She was choosing Eric. I'd accused her of taking him back if he made amends, but I never expected that she'd seek him out.

"No regrets," I mumbled, referring to Bella more than myself. At least I'd done the right thing last night when I stopped us. This way, if I couldn't have her to love, at least I could still keep her in my life.

"Speak for yourself. I've got some regrets," she insisted angrily, taking a step backward.

"I'll just get out of your way." I forced a smile to my face, trying to appear unaffected. I don't think I fooled her. I sure as hell didn't fool myself.

I excused myself and used the bathroom, washing up and splashing some cold water on my face. When I was finished, I poked my head into the bedroom to say goodbye. Bella was on the floor on her knees in front of the mirror, and she was crying.

"Are you going to be okay?" I knew it was a stupid thing to say, but there was nothing else I could offer. She wasn't okay, and neither was I. We'd have to pretend for a while, and maybe if we were lucky, we'd find our way back to friendship.

"No," she whispered. "I just need to know one thing before you go. Were you lying last night?"

"Lying about what?"

"Is my weight the reason you won't be with me?"

"Stand up," I commanded, striding confidently to stand behind her. We might not have a future, but I could sure as hell teach her how beautiful she was.

She got to her feet and turned to look at me, her confusion clear on her face.

"Turn around." I put my hands on her shoulders and nudged her towards the full-length mirror in the corner of the room.

Instead of looking at her reflection, she turned her head away and closed her eyes. Her inability to appreciate what I saw broke my heart. Without thinking of the line I was about to cross, I peeled my t-shirt off of her so she was wearing only her bra and panties again.

"Open your eyes." She did as she was told. Her expression was a mix of sadness and embarrassment, communicating everything she didn't say. "Tell me what you see."

"I see fat," she whispered.

"Fine, then tell me what _I_ see," I demanded, my tone more clipped than I'd intended.

"Someone you don't want."

"What the fuck, Bella. After everything I said…" I stopped myself mid-sentence, trying to reel in my anger. Even though I'd been very honest and upfront about my feelings, there was a good chance that she didn't remember a thing I'd said while she was drunk. "Only one of us was hammered last night, and it wasn't me. You may not recall what we talked about, but I sure as hell do. Since you've already accused me of lying, how about we cut out the part where you put words in my mouth."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you can have me any way you want me. All you have to do is see yourself the way I see you. Start by touching yourself."

Our eyes met in the mirror, reflecting her confusion at me. Her arms hung limply by her sides, obstinate and resisting. I picked up her hand and pressed her palm against her belly, holding it there with my hand.

"Do you like the way that looks… our hands pressed together on your body?" She studied our hands but gave no answer. "Do you like the way it makes your skin feel warm and protected. Maybe even aroused."

"Yes," she whispered. Her voice was so soft that I wasn't sure I was meant to hear it.

I ran my other hand tenderly up her side, caressing her hip and the curve of her waist, barely grazing the underside of her breast with my fingertips while I passed it.

"Tell me what you see," I urged, tickling her skin with the lightest of touches, trying to coax a response from her. "What am I touching?"

"Me," she squeaked, giving a tiny bit of volume to her unsure voice.

"Your what?" I murmured, pressing my lips to her ear and purposely speaking in the deepest voice I could muster. I needed to force her out of her comfort zone.

"My hip… my waist… my breast." She was giving me the words I wanted, but there was no conviction behind them.

"Can you see how different we are?" I stepped slightly to the side, making a small portion of my torso appear beside her in the mirror. "What does my hip look like… my waist?"

"I don't understand what you want me to see." I could hear the frustration in her voice, the desperation to give me what I was after.

"I want you to see what's _really_ there. Not what you think shouldn't be there or what you think I want to see there, but what _I_ see."

With tears welling in her eyes, she scrutinized the image reflected back at her. Her eyes darted between our two bodies, comparing and contrasting the likenesses and differences. "Your waist and hip are the same width," she told me in a hesitant whisper.

I nodded and smiled. "And yours?"

"My hip comes out further than my waist… so my shape is different."

"Beautifully different, the way nature intended it to be." I ran my hand along her hip, squeezing slightly, claiming it. "I want this for my own, because there is nothing more sensual than this luscious curve right here." I let my hand rest on the swell of her hip, closing my eyes as the tingle it left on my fingertips swept through me.

"This dip…" My hand drifted up to her waist, a path so natural yet unfamiliar to the hands that desired it so strongly. I held my breath, relishing in the delectable heat that my palms absorbed from her skin. Moving my head down, I planted a kiss on her shoulder, tentatively removing my other hand from hers. When she tried to drop her arm, I quickly returned my palm and pressed her tiny fingers open against her belly once again. "Please… leave it there." I'd beg her to comply if that's what it took. She was so alluring. There would be no way she could deny what she was once she touched what I touched.

With a hand on each side of her waist, I gently cupped her flesh between my thumb and fingers. "This dip is so soft and perfect," I whispered roughly, tucking my head tightly against the side of her face. I breathed in and out, forcing fresh air into my lungs so I could keep my wits about me. Being this close to her was overwhelming in so many ways.

"You told me you feel pretty wearing this outfit. I see how gorgeous you are… how the panties hit your hip in just the right spot… how flawlessly this bra holds your breasts. Do you see it?" I wanted to challenge her to remember what she'd told me last night, hoping to shake free a memory or unearth something that might hint at the things we'd said to one another.

"It's better than what I normally wear," she replied shakily.

"You should only ever wear pretty things. You're special inside and out and deserve to feel that way every day."

I moved my hands to her breasts, hissing quietly as my fingers rounded their fullness, so deliciously and indubitably female. She melted into my torso a little, leaning on me for support. Little by little, I was getting through to her.

"You flashed me your nipple last night," I admitted in a whisper, slowly tracing one of the darkened centers with my fingertip until it hardened under my touch. She muffled the whimper my fondling induced, pressing her lips together tightly. "Don't keep it in. I want to hear all of your sounds, especially the ones you've saved for when I fuck you."

Her eyes flashed to mine in the mirror, and I held her stunned gaze. She took in one long, ragged breath, watching my face for any hint of dishonesty. She wouldn't find any there. If she was willing, I had every intention of taking her to bed. I just needed her to understand why I wanted to, so she wouldn't have any doubt about how much I desired her.

I toyed with the lace on the edge of the cup, running my finger along it, beside it and finally under it. When my hand reached the valley between her breasts, I inched my fingertips between the fabric and her skin. With a gentle tug, I pulled the cup down to bare one breast and then the other.

As a self-admitted boob man, I was in awe. "Holy fuck," I murmured, slightly dumbstruck by the sight of her. "Your tits are magnificent."

She giggled and pressed her back into my chest, testing how it felt and familiarizing herself with the way our bodies fit together. It sounded so goddamn corny to say that she was sculpted to complement the angles and curves of my body, but we came together like a lock and key.

"Can I take it off?" My whisper was hoarse as I tried to contain the emotion I was feeling. She nodded coyly, granting me permission. I stepped back from her, psyched that I was able to see what I was doing for once. Bras were pretty and served a purpose, but getting one off of a woman was no small feat. Once a guy had the green light, getting to the tits was the only thing he was thinking about. Those stupid hook and eye things were damn near impossible to undo when your hands were shaking and all the blood in your body was draining to your dick.

With three quick pinches, I unhooked her bra and slid it down her arms. The horny motherfucker in me gawked at her reflection. I was a firm believer in the bigger, the better adage when it came to boobs, and Bella fit the bill perfectly. I was so caught up in them that I forgot to ask before I took them in my hands. Bella just giggled.

The fact that I could barely contain her flesh with my fingers had me as hard as granite. She had to be at least a double D. I couldn't wait to get my mouth on them. Bella tipped her head back, closing her eyes as I gently pinched her nipples, rolling them between my thumb and index finger until she moaned. The low, throaty noise was definitely one of my new favourite sounds, one I planned on coaxing out of her many more times today.

"I had no idea you were a breast man," she teased, smirking at me.

"You'll learn that I'm an equal opportunity guy when it comes to body parts." I pressed my lips to her neck, sucking a tiny bit on her soft skin, needing more of her. I still had more to show her about her beauty, and while I was enjoying our game, my cock was throbbing. Needing to refocus on Bella, I reluctantly let go of her tits and slid my hands back down to her waist.

"I need you to touch yourself," I whispered. "Slide your hand into those pretty panties."

Her movement was slow, her fingertips inching past her adorable belly button and over the roundness of her tummy. I mistook the lack of speed for hesitation but realized she was drawing it out on purpose to tease me. She was empowered by my reaction to her, as she should be. She had all the control. I was hooked the day we met; she wouldn't have to work very hard to reel me in.

The sight of her fingers in her panties would be forever burned into my brain as the best soft porn I'd ever set my eyes on. I could see everything through the sheer fabric, totally engrossed while I watched her finger slid between the folds of her pussy, sinking into her warmth effortlessly.

"Are you wet for me, baby?" She groaned and nodded. "I bet your skin feels like velvet, all smooth, silky and luxurious." She bit her lip and stared at the mirror, watching me as I gawked. Seeing her confident and uninhibited as she touched herself was the embodiment of sexy.

I grabbed her hips and pulled her to me, enjoying the way she strained against my hold and the pressure it created on my cock. "The way stroking your clit makes you feel is the way I feel when I look at you."

She whimpered, moving her hand faster, pushing her fingers in and out while her thumb circled her most sensitive spot. We stared intensely at each other, transfixed on the image reflected back at us.

"Tell me what you see, baby girl."

"Curves in all the right places," she murmured, pressing her ass into my purposely. "I see fingers gripping because they want what they're holding, and two bodies that were made to fit together in intimate ways."

I eased her panties down her hips slowly as she spoke, pausing to nip at her delectable ass on my way down. "Do you still think I don't want to be with you?" I ran my hands along her calves, dropping her panties to the floor. "Do you think I would have stayed the night just to turn you down this morning?"

"Please, Edward."

I stood up and met her gaze. "I'll give you whatever you want. You just have to ask."

"I need you to fuck me."

Hearing her say word fuck in that context made my dick twitch. I quickly unbuttoned my fly and slid my jeans and boxers down.

"You're sure?" The gentleman in me offered her the out, but I held my breath, praying she wouldn't change her mind.

Instead of answering me, she turned toward me and put her hands on my chest, pushing me backward until I felt the bed behind me. She urged me down, leaving my feet on the floor and flattening my back against the mattress. Once her legs straddled my thighs, she pressed her ass back toward me. Yippie-ki-ay, a little reverse cowgirl action. I'm not going to pretend her choice of positions didn't thrill me. I'd have been over the moon with even the missionary position. I just wanted to be inside of her.

I held my cock in place and waited for Bella to move, almost blowing my wad as she sank down on my tip. Her slit was so wet that I would have slid completely in if not for the hold I had on her hip. I groaned and gripped her tighter, fighting the urge to let loose and fuck her with abandon. I wanted her to have control. God only knows that I'd give her whatever she asked for.

She moved tentatively, her body a tiny bit rigid. I worked to keep my hips from moving up to meet hers so she could find her rhythm. It was surprisingly easy to do. I just lay back and enjoyed the show, aroused and kind of fucking enthralled with watching my dick move in and out of her. And don't get me started on the view of her ass, all round and wide and calling to me. I was dying to rub my cock between her cheeks.

She bent forward a little, and the new angle let her sink down even further on me. A string of curse words fell from her lips. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that she knew every button to push to make things harder on me. If she said the word fuck again and held on to the _f_ sound just a touch longer than she needed to, I was going to flip her over and plough her until we both saw stars. I wouldn't be able to stop myself.

I moved my hips in time with hers, holding her at the waist. Bella's hands pressed into my thighs for balance, kneading my skin in the most appealing way. Without meaning to, she was making me feel even more wanted.

"You okay?" I asked, checking her expression in the mirror out of habit. I'd forgotten it existed when Bella pushed me onto the bed. Her face was serious, glued to the reflection of our bodies as she scrutinized the way we were connected.

"I've never watched a man fuck me before," she whispered. "It's kind of hot."

"I'd have to second that sentiment." She grinned at me, and I knew she was fine, probably just mesmerized by watching like I was.

Bella adjusted her position, planting her feet on the floor between mine. Her pussy gripped me tighter this way, making it so much harder to control myself. I wasn't going to complain about too much pleasure, but I wanted to make sure Bella got her share too.

Her legs were starting to quiver. I was sure her muscles were burning from the intensity of the position. I gripped her hips to still her and pulled out of her, chuckling when she whimpered a complaint. "I just want to move us into a more comfortable position for you," I explained, tugging her back onto the bed with me. I stayed flat and pulled her to straddle my hips, tucking her calves into my body just under my arms. I bent my legs at the knees so she could lean on my thighs for support.

Her body was even more gorgeous in this new position – back arched, tits pointed up, ass pushed out, her long, chestnut curls sweeping back and forth across her shoulders. Maybe it was just that I could appreciate it more when I wasn't so worried about her comfort. Either way, she was an eyeful.

With her hands on my knees, she rounded her hips slowly, grinding against me with building friction. Her breath came in shallow, short pants – another sound I quite liked. There was some inherent caveman satisfaction knowing that I'd stolen her calm, even breathing, that I'd made her body bend to my will, that every stroke in and out of her brought her closer to the edge.

I moved my hands to her ass, letting my fingers curl around her hips while my thumbs pressed into the roundness of her cheeks. Bella held all of the power in the position, changing the depth and speed of her thrusting at will, but I was content to let her lead. That way I could lose myself in our connection.

"Oh my God, you're gonna make me come." The hint of surprise in her tone made me wonder if Eric had left her high and dry in the O-department. I pushed the thought out of my head.

I thrust up to meet her hips, watching her face in the mirror. Her eyes were clenched shut; her fingers digging into my knees as she reached that spot between coherent and high. Best fucking spot in the world. There was no turning back once you hit it, and you knew that what was coming for you was unadulterated ecstasy. I listened carefully to the cries that left her as she exploded, memorizing them and adding them to my collection. I had a feeling they'd be joining me in the shower at some later date.

Just as she began to come down, I came undone. My body went rigid, and white flashed behind my eyelids. Pleasure shot through my body like electricity as I shuddered and shook beneath her. She wrapped her arms around my legs and held me tenderly until I finally relaxed.

"Holy shit," I mumbled, voicing a rather inept description of what she'd just made me feel.

"And then some," she agreed. "There was only one problem."

"Problem?" I raised my head to look at her, and eyed her suspiciously.

"I didn't get to kiss you." She lifted herself off my lap and slithered up next to me, cuddling into my body. I tilted her chin up and kissed her tenderly, keeping my tongue to myself for the time being.

"There was no time for kissing, baby girl. I had to make you see yourself clearly. But I promise I'll make it up to you." I grinned at her expectantly.

She raised herself up on her elbows. "Thank you for helping me to see myself more clearly… as more than just fat."

"You're real, Bella. Not fat, not thin, not anything but what you are. And what you are is perfect."

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><p><strong>AN:** As always, thanks for reading.

Reviews are... well they aren't better than reverse cowgirl, but they're pretty damn good! Click the button and leave one.


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